Terror of the Night
by The Ravenclawed Demigod
Summary: A collection of rhyming poems centered on different Minecraft themes, all pertaining to different aspects of the game. Now complete.
1. Terror of the Night

**A/N: I'm a poetry kind of person. I love poems and I love Minecraft. Cross those and you get a Minecraft poem - so here you are.**

 **One thing that has always fascinated me about Minecraft is the way that darkness brings monsters. As a child, I was convinced that monsters appeared in dark places - and once I found Minecraft, I realized that my childhood fear was a reality in the game. Except it was more exhilarating than scary, to be honest. One of my favorite aspects of the game is fighting against monsters.**

 **Peaceful mode is for wimps! T_T**

* * *

The Great Square comes, the Great Square goes.

And where it comes from, no one knows.

The wondrous Square with golden beam,

The Rectangle with silver gleam,

The symbols of the Day and Night,

And Dusk and Dawn and Morning Light.

But one thing's constant, all year round:

There's Darkness when the Sun goes down.

The Darkness is the strangest thing,

Entirely enveloping.

The Moon dilutes the Darkness, true-

But still, they spawn.

They come for you.

Oh, when the Square has fully gone,

And silver Moon is coming on,

The Darkness shrouds the hapless land,

And all defenses will disband.

The Terror of the night is real.

The Darkness stifles all surreal.

You'd best be safe— for if you're not,

The Darkness drives you to the spot.

You may be brave, and stalwart too-

But still, they spawn.

They come for you.

The deathless mob with rotting face,

The bony warriors that give chase,

The arthropods that yield their string,

And worst of all— the creeper-thing.

It makes no noise while skulking near,

Approaching nigh with naught to hear,

And when you hear the hissing sound,

It is too late to turn around.

With armor, you may fight anew;

But still, they spawn.

They come for you.

The fear of darkness maybe fades,

As slightly as the dark's gray shades,

It may appear to go quite sweetly—

But it will never leave completely.

As old or young as you may be,

The fear of tenebrosity

Will always form a dormant clone

Until you're out and all alone.

And then the fear comes out to play—

The mobs are lurking through the way.

You may have swords and armor, true-

But still they spawn.

They come for you.

A couple zombies you can kill.

Some skeletons are no big deal.

You easily kill arthropods

Without the help of any mods.

But creepers are alive to see,

Because you'd rather turn and flee

Than risk explosions fatally.

However, in the dark, you see,

A huge wave of hostility

Can come upon you just like that.

It's danger-filled, and that is that.

The message rises like the sun—

When it gets dark, you'd better run.

The bravest heroes know it's true—

The mobs? They spawn.

They come

for

 _you_.

* * *

 **A/N: There's more where that came from. Feedback is welcome.**


	2. VOiD

**A/N: Something else that's always slightly scared me about Minecraft is the Void, the infinite abyss beneath the bedrock that kills you even in Creative mode. That blue light is _creepy,_ man.**

* * *

Nothingness.

Oblivion.

Darker than obsidian.

And yet a richer azure hue than ever seen before.

Abysmal.

Infinity.

There's nothing for the eye to see

Except a blank oblivion.

Primordial.

From lore.

The Void is always waiting there,

Beneath the solid block,

Ever waiting, biding time with every

Turning of the clock.

Bedrock keeps the world anchored,

And without it we're destroyed.

All the known civilization would be

swallowed by the Void.

Oh, millennia are seconds,

Every year quick as a blink.

For entities primordial,

time's quicker than you'd think.

It's the first of all the living things,

The origin of life,

Separating all dimensions

And abating deadly strife.

Bridging gaps between dimensions,

Guarding that which should not be,

Only crossed by means of portals

and molecularity.

This obliviated nothingness,

This infinite abyss-

If gone, it would be something that the world

would dearly miss.

It's the bedrock of the universe,

Without it, we're destroyed.

What is this ancient entity?

I'll tell you.

It's

the VOiD.

* * *

 **A/N: Doesn't make much sense to you? Doesn't make much sense to me either.**

 **Thanks to Raiden the OC for the review. Made me smile. :)**


	3. Essentiality

**A/N: Here's the third installment! Y'know, I'm not sure "essentiality" is a word, but I'm just gonna roll with it.**

 **Think about this for a moment. If there was no wood - like _no wood anywhere -_ you could pretty much do nothing except punch animals to death, dig up dirt, and die. Wood is quite literally the building block (heh) of Minecraft civilizations.**

* * *

When newly spawned, it's good to see

If you can spot a nearby tree.

With nothing, not a small possession,

You can never make progression

Unless you can collect some wood.

It may seem simple, but it's good.

Diverse in either shade or form,

Steadfast through the raging storm,

Split to planks, and then to sticks,

Used for weapons, tools, and tricks.

Made for doors and crafting tables,

Sticks and chests and stairs and labels,

Trapdoors, buttons, pressure plates,

Wooden fences, wooden gates.

Tools are used to acquire stone,

Upgraded to iron soon.

And always wood must be right there

For sticks for handles.

(Wear and tear.)

Progress made continues on,

Diamonds gotten, diamonds gone,

Wood acquired and saplings planted

(Wood we _always_ take for granted).

Obsidian used to make a frame-

Nether portals make a name.

Eyes of Ender used to find

Location of a stronghold's time,

The portal frame is activated,

Not one ever hesitated.

And when the Ender Dragon's gone,

The goal of life half taken on,

The Wither slain with diamond sword,

The purpose of existence filled,

Life may be well and fine and good,

But you'd get nowhere without wood.

* * *

 **A/N: I feel like this one isn't quite the same, rhythmically, as the others. Good/bad? You tell me. Thanks for the recent feedback!**

 **(It took me like 10 minutes to figure out how to spell "rhythmically".)**


	4. The Creeper's Uprising

**A/N: This one's a bit... _different_. You'll see what I mean. **

**WARNING WARNING WARNING: There is a swear in this one! It rhymed so perfectly that I couldn't bear to leave it out. Feel free to skip if you'd rather.**

* * *

You head outside with just a torch,

A sword, and flint and steel.

You step away from your front porch,

And make yourself a meal.

The hapless cow that you've just killed

Provided you with dinner.

But now you've got to go and build

Before you get much thinner.

You take your diamond sword in hand

And start to build a wall.

You climb atop, on each you stand-

You take care not to fall.

"This is my dwelling!" you declare.

"I reign far over all."

You ease yourself back to the ground

And quickly build a shelter.

You want no creepers to be found

If you're all helter-skelter.

Night falls quickly after that.

You slip outside to find

A wild creeper coming close!

It's there you take a mind

To kill the creature there and then

And make the extra toils

To make sure it does not explode

So you can have its spoils.

You come up close, and as you do,

The creeper draws up straight.

"This is not fair!" it says to you.

"I want to talk, so wait!"

"You kill us mobs most every day.

From cows to pigs to ducks.

Then each one dies before your eyes

And you give zero fucks!"

"But that's not all!" the creeper yelled.

"This world has many features.

You claim it's yours because you're here.

Why not share with fellow creatures?"

"You pillage and you plunder,

You destroy our habitat.

You build whatever comes to mind

And yet that is not that-"

"You kill us almost every day.

And then our profits squander.

You build and kill and thrive, and yet-

You still call me the monster!"

"You're always doing such, and yes,

Abusing us poor mobs.

Why don't you go and kill yourself,

Or let me do the job?"

You were so shocked to hear this

That it went straight to your head.

You do not know that it will blow-

SSSSSSSSSSssssSSsSsSsssS!

BOOM!

And-

You're dead.

* * *

 **A/N: You deserved that.**


	5. A Temporary Inconvenience

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaaaaack! The title is from one of my favorite parts of the End Poem, which is partly what this was inspired by. The other part of inspiration came from something kind of random.**

 **A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, a friend and I were playing in a Creative server together. It was a parkour map or something like that. They died and I immediately attempted to teleport them back to me, but nothing happened.**

 **"Why isn't it letting me teleport you?" I asked.**

 **"I haven't respawned yet," they replied.**

 **As weird as it may be, it made me think. Where did their avatar go after it died/disappeared and before it respawned? Was it just not in existence? (In hindsight, this was _way_ too deep for the technicality of Minecraft, but in my defense, I'm a _very_ philosophical person!)**

 **I thought about respawning a _lot_ because of that. So I wrote this. Mostly because I was running low on ideas. Meh. If anyone has got ideas for Minecraft poems, drop a review and _maybe_ it'll get my creative juices flowing in time for next Tuesday.**

 **Read on, fellow fanfiction fanatics.**

* * *

 _The days are short_

 _There is much to do_

 _And death…_

 _What is death?_

There's a place between dimensions,

Where the Void resides in peace,

Where the wandering souls of centuries

Arrive to rest in peace.

Death is but an inconvenience,

Life's purpose but a pawn,

For there is a wondrous function

And that function is respawn.

After death, your spirit hovers,

Not quite sure where it should go,

Sort of trapped between dimensions

In a cyberspace unknown.

You no longer have a body,

Have no form to house a soul,

All your physical remembrances

As shattered as a bowl.

Any personal possessions

Now are left there where you died,

In the general vicinity, yet

Scattered far and wide.

You may quickly hit the button

And then instantly respawn,

Yet the clock has started ticking–

Soon your items will despawn.

Death's the loss of life, the lack thereof,

And life's a wondrous thing,

So to ridicule, kill aimlessly,

Swift punishment shall bring.

And yet life is far less precious

In a world where it won't end.

If respawning is an option,

Where's the carelessness to end?

With all valuables stored safely,

Death is nothing but a game.

It is painless, quick and easy,

Nothing lost but maybe name.

And although it may seem trivial,

I think that you'll agree

We should respect both life and death

And pay them fealty.

 _For the days are short;_

 _There is much to do;_

 _And death is but a temporary inconvenience._

* * *

 **A/N: Ta-da! Hope you enjoyed! And now for a few review replies -**

 **Raiden the OC : Thank you! Smiles for everyone :D**

 **File 13 : Of course you may! I'm quite flattered - thank you for asking. I'll be keeping an eye out for your stories...**


	6. Triumvirate

**A/N: This one's premise is fairly basic. It pretty much centers on the three basic gamemodes. Enjoy!**

* * *

Some Players are dark,

Some Players are light,

Some Players are shades of the day or the night.

Some Players are different,

Some Players surreal,

But all of these Players are very much real.

Some Players are happy,

Some Players forlorn,

Some Players are steadfast and weather the storm.

Some Players are angry,

Some Players are _pissed_.

Some Players can kill with the flick of a wrist.

Some Players use potions,

Some Players enchant.

Some Players are farmers; they harvest and plant.

Some Players are brash

And some Players are meek,

All Players are different, each Player unique.

Some Players are finite,

They're able to die,

Their goal is survival

And they are not shy.

They travel the world,

They craft and they mine,

They kill and create themselves monuments fine.

They toil and they profit,

They work and they thrive,

The world is their oyster

And that's how they live.

Some Players are godlike.

They can't be destroyed,

Except for external commands

(or the Void).

They've infinite power.

They get what they want.

They thrive and they flourish–

They stalk and they hunt.

These Players can fly through the clouds and the mists.

They even break bedrock with flicks of their wrists.

These Players are strong as a Player can be–

For they're the Creative,

and always will be.

The last type of Player

resembles a ghost.

They travel the world

and they see more than most.

These Players are see-through,

You can't spot them there,

They spectate in silence,

Like specters they stare.

They're wisps of a Player,

A husk or a shell,

Their job is to watch,

And they do their job well.

These three types of Players,

They make up the world,

It takes a triumvirate fully unfurled

In order to balance

a world that tips,

A world that storms

as if sinking its ships.

Survival, Creative, and Spectators too,

The world needs all of them.

Which one are you?

(Though squids are not Players,

I think you'll agree

They have no real purpose,

between you and me.)

* * *

 **A/N: The purpose of squids is 42. Enough said.**


	7. The Weakest Link

**A/N: This one is also a bit different, but I'm quite happy with how it turned out. Just imagine that everyone in this primitive Ultra Hardcore universe is working together to survive against monsters and the elements. It's a massive UHC where everyone's on the same team.**

 **...Except there's no way to win.**

 **MWAHAHAAAHAHA**

* * *

For years and years, each awful night

My friends and I would go to fight.

We'd work together, strike, and patch,

But one by one, we met our match.

My dearest friend was first to go.

That fateful night, she battled foe—

The creeper came. She looked quite miffed.

But Fate was kind.

Her death was swift.

Another comrade left us then.

He followed skeletons alone.

He stalked the monsters, took the bait–

The arrow found its mark.

Too late.

Soon afterwards, another friend

Stared down the creatures of the End.

These monsters didn't want to play–

I sobbed and turned my face away.

So one by one, our numbers dropped.

The monsters never could be stopped.

We fell from ten to five to three…

Alive for naught but amity.

For weeks we joined at pelvic bone,

So as to never be alone.

Yet eyes of luck are blind in dark...

A monster's arrow found its mark.

Now blind with grief and loss anew,

Us still-alive, remaining two

Vowed never leave each other's sight.

Ah! How I hate that fateful night!

A zombie moaned from darkened gloom.

I raised my bow of certain doom–

I tripped and fell. My shot went wide.

It struck my friend–

and thus he died.

Oh, fate is cruel, and twisted too-

I dropped my bow and fled anew.

The world was cold

and now bereft

for me-

 _The only_

 _Player_

 _left._

In solitude I roamed the earth-

I craved the sweet embrace of Death.

I had not loved and lost and blessed

To be denied my last request.

And then I saw a creature's flight,

As silent as the darkest night.

What else could take my final breath,

Than _this_ \- the true embrace of Death?

Quite heedless of the certain harms,

I welcomed Death with open arms.

My time was up.

I had to go.

There was a hiss, and then–

 _I know._

I once had several wondrous friends,

But one by one, we met our ends.

We meet again, with final breath,

United in the arms

of

Death.

* * *

 **A/N: The world was cold and now bereft**

 **for me -**

 **the only** **Time Lord**

 **left.**

 **...Sorry, wrong fandom.**

 **I can't actually believe that I used "pelvic bone" as a replacement for "hip"... although "joined at the pelvic bone" sounds way more epic, if you ask me.**


	8. Dividends

**A/N: Back when Minecraft was still in early development and I was still a noob, I _hated_ caving. I died all the time, either to lava or mobs or just plain idiocy. But every so often I'd come out of it with something worth the danger - and that's why I kept going back. Hence - this poem.**

* * *

The underground is dangerous

and dark

and deep

and dim.

Eternal night

Away from light

And also rather grim.

But treasures lie beneath the dirt,

Embedded in the stone.

Kept out of sight,

Away from light,

In clumps or all alone.

These priceless ores, these wondrous spoils,

These riches of the earth,

The hunt for these

Will seldom please

The ones who hunt from birth.

The caves hold dangers, great and small,

Like lava pools of doom,

Like fatal falls and caved-in walls,

And monsters born of gloom.

Yet many vital riches lay

Just waiting to be found,

Just waiting there in patience, ere

You're ever underground.

There's often coal, a wondrous fuel

(The warmth it gives is blest).

There's iron ore, diverse and more,

For sure, one of the best.

There's gold that glitters true and bright,

And emeralds quite green,

There's lapis blue and redstone too,

For dye or strange machines.

But best of all are diamonds bright,

Both beautiful and small.

They're sparkling blue

And useful, too–

Yes, _these_ are best of all!

What's life without a taken chance,

a gamble,

little risk?

So why not mine

For things divine

If it pays off like _this_?

Oh, mining may be hard at times,

And tribulations blest.

There may be pain–

It's _worth_ the gain,

'Cause diamonds are the _best_.

* * *

 **A/N: Heck yeah they are.**


	9. Levels of Reality

**A/N: This one's premise is fairly simple. It's about the three dimensions. Read onwards.**

* * *

In a world where there's much to see

(and lack of blest tranquility)

There's three dimensions, far and wide,

Quite far apart, yet side by side.

There's Overworld, the first of all,

The home of trees both wide and tall,

The place of sunlight come and gone,

Where animals and Players spawn.

A place of beauty yet unfurled–

This is called the _Overworld_.

The Nether is dimension two,

Quite full of heat and hell and gloom,

The home of Ghasts, and glowing Blaze,

Full of rusty reddish haze,

Above its bedrock roof entombed

The afterspirits of the doomed.

It's rough and rocky, hot as well–

This is the _Nether_.

Minecraft's hell.

The last of the dimensions three,

The End may long forever be.

The first and oldest of them all,

Primordial till world's fall,

The dragon's home of strength and might,

The creatures' haven of the night,

The Ender crystals undestroyed,

Surrounded by the churning Void.

It's always there, but no one's friend,

Forevermore this is the _End_.

These never-gone dimensions three

Are always complementary.

They're mutually separated,

Keeping struggles much abated.

Across the bounds of time and space,

Separated, yet in place,

Boundless eon-crossing gaps,

Unrecordable on maps.

The Overworld, Nether, End–

These cracks the world will one day mend.

Forevermore dimensions three,

They coexist

in

harmony.

* * *

 **A/N: I like the flow of this one. Definitely one of my better ones.**


	10. The Game of Life

**A/N: This is the end, folks. Ten poems sounds about right to me. This one's about one of the more profound themes that Minecraft is associated with. The in-game avatar that you control is called many things - Miner, Crafter, Builder, User, etc - but the one I always use is _Player_. Because that envelops every other name.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

The entities that populate

This world are always known of late

As Miners, Crafters, Builders too–

But _Player_ is the name most true.

Yes, Players craft and Players mine,

They build extravaganzas fine,

They hunt and kill through love and strife,

For Players play the game

of Life.

The days are short; there's much to do;

The nights are long, and dangerous too;

The monsters spawn, then burn away,

So week by week, the patterns stay.

The Players use enchanted swords,

They breed and then thin out their herds,

They duel monsters far and nigh,

For Players know it's _kill_

or _die_.

The Players? Known as _Miners_ too,

They dig for riches old and new,

They hunt for treasures only found

Beneath the surface– underground.

Another term is known as _Crafter_ ,

Making tools forever after,

Forming weapons, things to give,

All the tools they need to live.

 _Builder_ is another name,

Earning Builders lots of fame.

Making structures tall and strong,

Investing time the whole day long.

But _Player_ is the best, you see,

Encompassing the other three.

With misery, but riches rife,

The Players play the game

of Life.

The Players' burden who can see?

They hold responsibility

For those who live with shadowed breath,

For those who play the game of Death.

The Players strive for painless days;

The work that generations praise,

The burdens of the world take up-

For _you're_ the Player.

You.

 **Wake up.**

* * *

 **A/N: That last bit is from the ending of the End Poem. It's always given me chills.**

 **So closeth this collection of poems. Thanks for sticking with me thus far. Muchas gracias and all that. Now go live your life, because _you_ are your own Player, and _you_ can make a difference. **

**(I sound like a cat poster...)**

 **Special thanks to Raiden the OC, File 13, FAC123, and Karmia for their assorted follows, favorites, and reviews! :)**


End file.
